Safe harbor
by Xandra76
Summary: This is a story about how Ziva and Callen met and became friends and more, helping each other along as they face different challenges in their respective lives. Beware the rating, please.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Note:** This is a Callen/Ziva story. Please don't hate me (too much) for that pairing. I do have other favorite ships too, but I just think they would be ... right for each other. I know I tagged it as "Romance" but that's because there's no "Friends with benefits" tag... The "H/C" stands.

This chapter is set in season 4 of NCIS and before NCIS LA started.

**Washington DC, 2007**

Special Agent G. Callen carefully tipped his glass towards the woman sitting beside him on a relatively clear corner of the workbench in Gibbs' basement.

"To... no more stand-offs?"

Ziva David, liaison officer between Mossad and NCIS, touched her cup softly to his.

"I am not sure what that means, but I'd like to drink this, so..."

He chuckled. "It means no more pointing guns at each other"

She nodded. "Good. Although...I could have easily taken you out, you know"

Callen couldn't help baiting her a little. "If it makes you feel better to think that...sure"

She bristled. "There are at least ten ways I could kill you with only a paperclip, Agent Callen"

"Good thing there're no paperclips around, then. Killing me would be quite the waste"

"Now you sound like my partner. He also thinks he is God's gift to women"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. "I meant a waste of perfectly good office supplies, of course"

She opened her mouth to respond and then realized what he was doing.

"Are you...flirting with me, Agent Callen?"

"If you have to ask I'm obviously not doing a very good job... But actually not really, I'm just trying to get on your good side so you won't carry out your threats to kill me"

The banter and easy flowing conversation continued well into the night and Callen had to admit this was the most fun he had on a date in years. Of course, this wasn't a date, just a friendly drink, or five, between fellow agents. Right.

He had arrived in Washington DC earlier that day, summoned by Director Sheppard. The pretext was a lengthy debriefing following a case they'd just closed in LA; Callen suspected she more likely wanted to assess his state of mind personally after his long and hard undercover job in the course of the case in question. He accepted Gibbs' offer to crash in his spare bedroom and was just getting settled in when he found himself face-to-face with a gun. The woman at the other end of said gun seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place her. She looked like she meant business, in any case.

"Keep your hands where I can see them. Who are you?" she stayed well out of his range of motion, gun pointing surely at his chest.

"I'm a friend of Jethro's. He's letting me stay here for a couple of days"

She shook her head, clearly not believing him. "Nobody calls him that. I'll ask again, who are you?"

Not being sure who _she_ was, Callen couldn't take the chance of giving her the wrong name.

"Well, since I can hardly show you any ID..." he demonstratively looked at the gun "... maybe you should go first. Who are _you_ and what are you doing in my friend's house?"

"I'm the one holding the gun, and that's all you need to know for now. On the ground, hands behind your head"

He moved as if to lower himself to his knees and was flat on the ground with his own gun pointed at her in less than a second.

"Okay, what now?" long seconds passed and none of them moved an inch.

"Ziva, Callen, what the hell? Lower your weapons" Gibbs stopped just inside the room.

"You know her?" "You know him?" both spoke at the same time.

"Well yeah, obviously. Wanna explain what you're doing?"

"She just pointed a gun at me and..." "I heard someone moving upstairs and I..." again at the same time.

Gibbs resisted the urge to roll his eyes and willed his heart to slow down; this could have turned into a disaster very quickly.

"G, you got here early"

"Yeah, caught an earlier flight"

"I didn't have time to inform my team of your arrival. She came to work on some files..." he shook his head. "Putting you two together in one room...Good thing I came in right after you" he looked at Ziva. "Anyway, Special Agent G. Callen, Officer Ziva David"

"Special Agent?" "Officer?"

Callen smirked as he packed his gun away. "We gotta stop talking at the same time, Officer David. Mossad, right?"

She nodded, still obviously pissed. "You?"

"Me? I'm not Mossad"

She threw him a look that would have sent the toughest Marine running for his life; Callen just smiled, not saying anything.

Gibbs had had enough. "He's NCIS Ziva, from the OSP in Los Angeles. The undercover unit, that's why you've never seen his face. And you Callen, you should've seen at least her photo by now"

He shook his head ruefully. "Deep undercover for the last few months. I guess I did at some point, but..."

Gibbs glared at both of them, using annoyance to cover the scare. "Yeah, yeah. So, take-out?"

The take-out was followed by a visit to the basement and a bottle of bourbon. Gibbs left at some point, presumably to go to bed, and Ziva stayed to keep their apparently never-sleeping guest some company.

Hours later she threw the second empty bottle in the trash, standing up and stretching. "I am...cat-tired. I'll call a cab and go. See you tomorrow?"

He chuckled "You mean dog-tired." On second thought, she did remind him a bit of a big cat, gorgeous and graceful and potentially deadly... _'Too much to drink G., don't go there. She's off limits'_ he reminded himself half-heartedly, feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

"I'm not meeting the Director at the Navy Yard. Too many people. If you wanna meet after..."

He could kick himself. _'Where the hell did that come from?'_ Maybe the Director was right; too much time undercover and he needed some time to remember who he was and what he did. Or, more exactly, what he didn't do, and that was date law-enforcement.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Agent Callen?" she smiled.

"No. No. Just...you know, to join me for some food and drinks, as a colleague. I..." he had to come clean "I have this rule...I don't date cops." He knew he should have stopped there, but she didn't say anything and he had the weird need to fill the silence with something. "Someone owns her own pair of handcuffs...I don't date her" he tried to joke.

Her smile got wider and she moved towards him, getting well into his personal space. "Anything against handcuffs, Agent Callen? Or just the idea of...being dominated scares you?"

He swallowed thickly and couldn't tear his eyes off her lips. She licked them slowly, still smiling, and moved back.

"But okay, no date then. Just some friendly food and drinks. I am a pretty good cook, you know, and I rarely have the chance to cook for somebody else. How does Italian sound?" she was all friendly again, like nothing happened. _'Well, nothing really did, but...'_

What was he supposed to say to that?

"Sure, thanks. See you tomorrow then" _'Oh hell...'_

* * *

Callen leaned back in his chair, too stuffed to do much of anything else.

"This was amazing! Thank you Ziva, you really are a great cook"

She smiled, obviously pleased "Thanks. You don't have to sound so surprised, though. You didn't think I could do it?"

"That's not it. It's just, in your...well, our, line of work, there's not much time to pursue many hobbies. It's nice to have something, though, to take your mind off things and keep your hands busy"

She sighed. "Yeah. Like Gibbs with his boat, no?"

He smiled. "Exactly"

"What about you?"

Callen shook his head. "I work undercover, sometimes for extended periods of time. I'm always...somebody else" he tried to lighten the tone "Besides, I have no basement to build a boat in"

"What about dating?"

'_Huh'_ "What about it?"

"How do you manage do date anyone if you're, as you said, always somebody else?"

He was silent for a few moments. "I...don't much. But my aliases have a good time sometimes" he tried to laugh but couldn't quite pull it off.

"You have this way, of using humor to...cover up" she smiled a bit sadly.

'_I have lots of ways to cover up. I have to'_ "Look, Ziva..."

She stopped him. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry I brought it up. I was just curious last night, why your rule about not dating cops"

He'll never quite know what made him open up to her with something he'd never otherwise shared.

"They...I don't mean just cops, but any kind of law-enforcement, sometimes they... Let's just say that no matter how close you are to someone, you risk finding yourself secondary to the mission, and trust me, it's not a pleasant feeling"

Images of her brother's body in Gibbs' basement, dead by her own hands, flashed in front of her eyes and she closed them briefly. "Yeah, for neither side"

They were both silent for a while.

"I'm sorry I..."

"I shouldn't have..."

Callen grinned, the mood lightened. "We still seem to have this habit of talking at the same time. So, more wine?"

He got up to leave a couple of hours later, again having had the best time he remembered in ages.

"Thank you again, Ziva. This... it felt really good to be able to be myself for a change. I needed it"

"You are quite welcome. And I needed it too. I don't have many friends here, and even less I can tell spy stories to, however ...redacted they may be" she smiled.

"So we're friends?"

"Absolutely. I don't cook for just anyone, you know"

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and she turned her head, his lips landing on hers. Callen might have thought it was an accident if she hadn't angled her head just right to maximize contact, mouth opening slightly under his. He kissed her lightly, enjoying the feel of her, then pulled back.

"Ziva..."

She put a finger on his lips, quieting him. "G, we're...still friends" she looked him in the eyes, willing him to understand what she was saying. He did, he really did, but...

"Look, rule or no rule, we live on opposite sides of the country and..."

"But we're here now"

"That we are" he took a deep breath, eyes straying to her lips of their own volition. He didn't really need much convincing, if he wanted to be honest with himself. "So, friends?"

"Uh-huh. Friends" she mumbled the last part against his mouth.

The kiss started light again but got harder fast as he slowly licked her lips, a hand on the back of her head and one on her hip. She molded her whole body to his and gasped into his mouth as she felt the hardness against her belly. His tongue was doing some pretty amazing things to her mouth and Ziva couldn't remember ever getting this hot from just kissing.

"Bedroom, now"

By the time they reached the room in question most of their clothing littered the hallway.

She pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, leaning down for some more kissing. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down to rub against him, breath hitching as her mouth moved to his neck. He flipped them over and she didn't resist the move, impatiently pushing her jeans and underwear off in one move. Callen stopped for a second to admire her toned body, curves in all the right places, face flushed. It only took seconds for him to lose whatever clothing he had left and be back to kissing her deeply. He tried to go a little slower this time, feeling like he was about to lose any traces of control left. He cupped her breasts and lowered his mouth to a nipple, licking and then sucking harder, encouraged by the sounds she was making. Alternating between the two nipples he moved a hand lower, lightly caressing along her chest and abdomen. He let a finger trace her folds gently, over and over and she bucked up into his hand, desperate for more contact. The tip of his finger found her clit and flicked it a couple of times before sliding it to caress inside of her. He moved it slowly in and out, bending and twisting it to find her sweet spots, unbelievably turned on by the sight she was making, writhing on the bed under his hands. Her nails dug into his arm as she tried to ride his hand; he wouldn't let her, pinning her hips in place. This was pure torture, she thought, the intense pleasure but not quite enough friction to allow her to finish. She opened her eyes to glare at him. "You finish this now or I swear to God I will kill you!"

He smirked, obviously pleased with himself, but he had to admit he couldn't wait much more either. His smirk completely disappeared as she grabbed a condom from the nightstand and slowly, too slowly, began to roll it on him. He was so hard it hurt and way too close to the edge for his liking. She pumped him a couple of times, fist squeezing hard, as she finished putting the condom on and he couldn't stop the deep groan and the bucking of his hips.

She leaned back on the bed and pulled him on top. He stopped breathing for a moment and froze as he slid inside of her for the first time, fighting for some semblance of composure. Obviously way too much time had passed since Callen did this last and now he was struggling to not completely embarrass himself.

Her hips moved beneath his, impatient, and she bit down on his neck. He began to move, completely unable to wait another moment longer. Again he tried to take things slower but she wouldn't let him, apparently being about as desperate as he felt. "More, God, please...yeah, close...please..."

He pumped harder, snapping his hips faster into her, almost afraid of the intense need and total loss of control he was experiencing. Callen wasn't normally especially vocal in bed, but he couldn't stop the sounds making their way out from between his clenched teeth as her nails dug hard into his ass and she arched under him, head thrown back. Apparently she, on the other hand, was vocal, and the scream in his ear combined with the rippling of her internal muscles around him drove him over the edge too. He pumped erratically a couple more times before his whole body seized, the pleasure blinding, stifling a long and agonized groan into her neck.

He let himself slide sideways after a few moments, too weak to really move.

"That was...unbelievable"

Ziva smiled at him, still trying to catch her breath.

"Yeah, it definitely was. Still, we should try and see if it was just an accident or we could maybe repeat the performance"

He turned towards her, raising his eyebrows. "Don't you think you should give me a few minutes to...regroup here? At least...that's what a friend would do"

She mock-pouted at him. "Okay, maybe a few minutes..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Note:** This is set around the Truth and Consequences episode of NCIS and the first episode of NCIS LA

**September 2009**

Callen was lying on the grubby carpet in his motel room staring at the ceiling for the last couple of hours, ever since _the call_. The one in which Gibbs told him Ziva was gone. And this time, this time _gone_ meant just that, gone, dead, never coming back. Not like before, when gone actually meant _back to Israel and Mossad_.

Every stain, crack and mark on the damn ceiling already mapped and known by heart, and he still didn't know how he really felt. Sure, he was sad, upset, angry even but somehow...that didn't seem enough; he thought he should be feeling more. He snorted to himself _'What would Nate say to hear me now?'_

They didn't have a real relationship, at least he didn't think so. More like long-distance friends with some side benefits now and then. They met only on two other occasions after that first time and neither was exceptionally good at electronic communication. Well, at normal face-to-face communication either, but... Everything considered, this, what they had, was the closest he'd come to having a real relationship in a very long time. He wasn't quite in love with her, and knew for sure she wasn't either, but they did _love_ each other. So maybe he should be feeling more...grieving than this. Or did he spend so much time controlling and smothering any hint of emotion that he actually became a cold-fish? But no, he didn't think that was it.

He sat up, suddenly figuring out what was wrong. Deep down, on a mostly unconscious level, he didn't really believe she was dead. Gibbs sounded wretched on the phone, like he was sure. But still...

Two days later Callen was in Washington DC, covertly helping Gibbs set up the operation in Somalia.

He was there when she came back but she refused to see him and Gibbs suggested maybe it's indeed not the best of times. Callen read the report and read even more between the lines and finally agreed to go back home if Gibbs promised to call him with updates.

He lay again in pretty much the same spot on the floor, heart even heavier than it was when they thought she was dead and a hard-to-swallow knot firmly lodged in his throat.

* * *

She called a week and a half later, at 3 AM, after dodging all his previous attempts at communication. Not surprisingly, Callen was awake. What did surprise him though was how nervous he was to pick up the phone.

"Ziva, hey"

"Hey"

"It's good to hear from you" he didn't say 'finally', although the word was just there, on the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah, I... I'm sorry for...avoiding you"

"It's okay, Zee. No worries. I'm glad you called now"

She didn't say anything but he could hear her breathing on the other end of the line.

"So, how are...things over there?"

"Fine. I believe Gibbs is keeping you informed"

He paused. "Yes, I did ask him to keep me posted. Still, it's _you_ I want to hear from. How are _you_ doing, Ziva?"

"I... I started back at NCIS last week. We've already closed a couple of cases..."

"That tells me _what_ you're doing, Ziva, not _how_"

"I heard you're back to work too. I'm glad you're okay, G."

So she was still avoiding the question. It worried the hell out of him.

"Thanks, I wish I could say I'm taking it slowly but...you know how it is" he paused for a moment and braced himself. "Zee, you did call me at 3 AM. At least talk to me, please"

He could hear her breathing deeply a few times. "I'm...coping. For the most part. I'm still..." she stopped for a while and he let her compose herself. "I can't sleep, G, and I can't eat and it takes my best efforts to not jump every time someone touches me unexpectedly. They assigned me a damn shrink and I can't say any of this to him or they'll never let me work and..." her voice choked and he could hear her trying to control it. Callen never expected her to say this much and he was both pleased and scared at the responsibility her confession bestowed on him.

"Will you let me come over?"

"What? No, you don't have to do that, you have your work and you just got back from being shot and..."

"Zee, please. I just... I'd really like to come if you'll let me. Please?"

She was silent for a few moments. "Yes, you can come. I'd...really like you to come, too"

* * *

He called Hetty and Sam first thing in the morning and was on the next flight to Washington for the second time in so many weeks. He booked a room at a hotel this time, he really had no idea where he was going to sleep and didn't want to have to explain things to Gibbs. Of course, much like Hetty, his friend seemed to know pretty much everything there was to know about everything, but still...

Ziva hugged him the moment he walked in the door, which he didn't expect. She did look quite a lot thinner though and dark circles were showing under her eyes.

"So good to see you, Zee" he whispered into her neck, still hugging her to him.

"You too, G, you too" she lingered a bit then pulled back abruptly.

"So, take-out?" she busied herself with calling for food, setting the table, making coffee, anything to avoid talking to him or even looking at him.

He waited, patiently, until after they finished eating. Or, more likely, after he finished eating and she finished pushing her food around the plate.

"Look, Ziva..."

Her eyes jumped to him and she looked afraid. It broke his heart.

He shook his head. "I came here to be with you, not to interrogate you. You don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to, okay?"

She nodded, still looking haunted.

"Wanna watch some TV?"

"Yeah, we could do that"

They sat on the couch, sipping beer and watching some idiotic show for a while. Callen certainly wasn't paying any attention to it, and by the way she was staring at nothing, neither did Ziva.

She started talking suddenly, curled up against him on the couch, not looking at him. She told him about the mission, the ship, her capture and her rescue. She even spoke of her father's angle in all this and how that made her feel. Most of the details Callen already knew but he was still more than pleased she opened up to him.

She appeared lighter somehow after she finished her story, maybe a bit more peaceful. He hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking on his part and that talking about things, talking to him, actually helped her. Of course, what she didn't talk about was just as significant in his opinion: her time in captivity.

Not having the slightest intention to press her for information, Callen kissed her head as she began to nod off, physically and mentally exhausted.

"I'll let you sleep Ziva. See you tomorrow?"

She clenched her hand in his shirt. "No don't"

"Don't...what?"

"Don't leave, G"

He swallowed the knot in his throat and allowed himself to be dragged to her bedroom. He was lying over the covers, fully dressed except for the shoes by the time she came out of the bathroom.

She raised an eyebrow "I don't need a guard dog, Agent Callen. You can take those jeans off and get in bed" she smiled a bit "It's not like you've never been there before, after all"

'_Oookay, thanks for the image. That will guarantee a peaceful rest...'_ of course he didn't say it out loud, he was here to help her and nothing else.

He got under the covers in his undershirt and boxers, facing her but nor daring to get any closer. She also kept her distance for a while, then he felt her shuffling around the bed until she was plastered to him, him spooning her from behind. She didn't say anything, so neither did he. He was beginning to fall asleep, nose buried in her hair, when she began moving again. Little tiny movements, her bottom rubbing against him over and over again, at irregular intervals. To his utter shame Callen felt himself starting to react. The movement, her warm body so close to his, her smell...he was getting harder by the minute and he felt disgusted with himself. He was here to help her cope, to see her through a tough time and instead he couldn't even control his own body. She was probably just dreaming and if she woke up and noticed what a pervert he was... He slowly moved his hips back, putting some distance between them. She followed after just a few moments and this time he jerked back harder when she started pressing against him again.

She moved away and turned towards him. _'Not sleeping then. Huh'_

"Are you disgusted with me?" he could hear the tears in her voice.

'_What?'_ "What?!"

"I asked, are you disgusted with me?" articulating every word carefully.

He rose on an elbow to see her better. "Whatever gave you that idea, Ziva?"

"Well, I've been trying for a while to...and you keep pulling back like... Look, I understand if you don't want me anymore, I'm...not how I used to be and..." her voice broke, a tear making its way down her cheek.

His eyes widened as he understood what she was saying.

"God Ziva, how can you think... I thought you were asleep and..."

She didn't look convinced at all, moving to get out of the bed. He caught one of her wrists and pulled gently. When he was sure she wasn't frightened or fighting him he placed her hand on his chest and slowly dragged it lower. He was still hard and she finally smiled as she squeezed him through his boxers and he couldn't hold back the moan.

He still had to ask "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded and pulled his shirt over his head. He noticed she kept hers on.

Lying half on top of him she kissed him for a while, one land lightly caressing his body, relearning him. The kisses got harder and he let his hands roam over what skin he could reach, over her thighs and under the shirt to touch her breasts. She slipped her fingers under his boxers and he unconsciously tightened his hand on the back of her neck, holding her to him. She jerked, pulling her head away.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot, I..."

She shushed him, leaning back to lie on his chest. "No, it's okay. Just don't...restrain me"

He pushed his anger at what was done to her aside, he couldn't afford to let it ruin this, what she needed.

She resumed kissing him, going lower over his chest, slowly and methodically. Her fingers and lips stopped over each bullet scar, mapping them. Her movements were... loving, no other way to describe them, and his breath hitched, not used to someone paying him this much attention. She rose above him, looking him straight in the eyes and pulled her shirt over her head. The bruising and scars were still visible in the light coming from outside and he clenched his hands on her hips, momentarily overwhelmed by both heartache and the trust she showed in allowing him to see them.

She smiled a bit sadly, looking at him. "We both have a lot of scars, G"

He had a feeling she was referring to more than just the visible ones. He let his hands move over her torso, caressing every spot. "You're beautiful, Ziva" he hoped to God she believed him.

The mood changed slightly after that and only minutes later he was panting, her hands and lips all over him. He moaned at a particular skilled trick from her and pulled her back "Careful there Ziva, unless you want this to be over before it started. It's been a while, you know"

She looked at him, surprised. "You haven't..."

Callen shook his head. "Not since the last time we met"

"But that was...more than six months ago"

He smiled ruefully. "Don't I know it"

She didn't protest when he moved, laying her on the bed and placing himself between her legs. He slowly kissed every inch of her thighs before he moved higher, his tongue and lips tracing her folds over and over again, dipping inside and going back up to flick her nub. The sounds she was making both encouraged him and drove him crazy, and he pressed himself hard against the mattress to relieve some of the ache.

"Please G, I need..."

"What Ziva, tell me what you want" his voice was raspy and low.

She pushed up on her elbows to look at him. "I want you inside me, I need...you"

He rolled a condom on and moved up to kiss her again. "Are you sure about this?"

She didn't answer, instead grabbing him to guide him to her core. _'Answer enough'_ he thought, holding himself up as not to crowd her and pushing forward very slowly. She moaned and arched her back and it took all he had to not just pound into her. He kept moving slowly for a while, arms shaking with the effort to both hold himself up and mostly just keep himself in check. She snapped her hips against him and wiggled a bit and he fell on his elbows, squeezing his eyes shut. Ziva could feel him shaking slightly above her and hear his harsh pants in her ear and she felt so grateful and nearly overwhelmed by his restraint and consideration of her.

She cupped his face in her hands "I'm not a porcelain doll, G. I'm not going to break"

He picked up the pace a bit, looking straight at her the whole time. She moaned deep in her throat and threw her head back, pushing her hips up to meet him. He was still holding back though, and didn't even have time to realize what was happening before she flipped them over, straddling him. She completely changed the rhythm, using all her strength to ride him faster, tearing a desperate groan from him. She didn't let up for a second and his hand shot forward to squeeze the base of his shaft hard, wanting, _needing_ to see her finish before he did. Her movements soon becoming erratic she let her body fall forward, writhing against him before going rigid, her teeth sinking into his shoulder, her loud moan muffled. Callen allowed himself to let go after that and he desperately pushed up a few more times, fingers digging into her flesh, the feeling so intense he almost blacked out.

Neither said much after, but she kissed him lazily and with so much feeling that he understood all she wanted to say. She slept curled up, half on top of him the rest of the night, and he just whispered softly to her and kissed her head the only time she woke up from a nightmare.

Callen went back to LA a couple of days later, his heart much lighter, knowing she was, if not quite 100 percent yet, at least getting there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Note 1: Thank you for the reviews! I know I'm not asking for them, but I certainly do love them!

Note 2: This chapter is, well, without much plot and way more light-hearted than the previous one...

The timeline is set right before episode 16 (Chinatown), season 1 of NCIS LA. The recognizable dialogue in the beginning between Sam and G. (in italics) is quoted from that episode. Noticed how it was never explained why Callen was actually late? :)

"_If you tell me you're picking me up at 9:00, 8:50 I'm curbside"_

"_I got caught up in something"_

"_What? You don't have a TV. You don't read the newspaper. You clearly don't spend any time getting ready"_

"_Well, maybe I was working out"_

"_You don't work out"_

"_I run"_

"_Yeah, when people are shooting at us"_

"_Mm-hmm. All right, you know what? I slept in"_

"_With who? You barely sleep"_

"_There's nobody. Come on"_

"_I think it would be great for you to be in a relationship"_

"_Sam, how many times are we going to have this conversation? You are my partner, not my mother"_

**Los Angeles, 2010**

Callen was used to sleeping alone and he actually preferred it that way. Or, more accurately, spending the night alone, considering that, as Sam so nicely put it, he barely slept. Of course, that could be because there was no attraction in sleeping, actually _sleeping_, with someone he'd just met in a bar and even less so in waking up next to someone whose name he could hardly remember.

There were occasions though, rare as they may be, when all that changed. _'Like now for instance'_, he thought, smirking internally.

Ziva arrived late last night and he felt his heart clench in worry when he first saw her, expecting bad news. This, someone flying across the country just to see him...he wasn't used to this. Turned out it was just one of those rare occasions when she got a few days off and decided to pay him a visit. _"I heard LA is lovely in spring. And it has a pretty...active night life"_, she'd said, smiling in a way that kept his heart rate up even after he realized nobody died or was about to.

She didn't get to witness much of LA's night life though, but Callen was quite sure she had intimate knowledge of every piece of furniture in his room by now. He had some pretty sore muscles in the morning, and, considering his rather active life style, that was saying a lot. _'Whoever said I'm not working out?'_ he thought, amused. He woke up the moment he felt Ziva shifting around in bed but decided to keep that to himself for now.

He heard her stretching and yawning and sitting up on an elbow to check on him. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even. Nothing happened for a few moments and then he felt her hand lightly skimming over his chest. It moved slowly, from his collarbone to the edge of his boxers and back up again, drawing irregular patterns, over and over again. It tickled and aroused him at the same time and he fought to control his breathing. Other parts of him were less likely to be controlled, though. Her fingers moved over his nipples, touching lightly at first, then flicking them with the tip of a short nail. His breath caught this time but Callen kept up the appearance of sleep. He was pretty sure she wouldn't be fooled, but she allowed him to pretend for now. This, not seeing anything and just feeling her, this was pretty hot in his opinion. Considering their personal histories, any kind of blindfolding or bondage was out of the question for both of them, at least for now, but this...he could go for this.

Her hand moved on from his nipples and again skimmed downwards, only this time she didn't stop at the edge of the boxers. She touched him so lightly over the cloth he would have probably hardly felt it if he weren't already so very...interested in her actions. She moved her fingers repeatedly from tip to base, the touch so soft he made the mistake of thinking he could take it lying still. A minute of this though and it was taking all his control to not push his hips up into her hand. Not moving was getting to be unbearable and he clenched his hands in the sheets. All pretence was gone when she scratched her blunt nails over the tip, his eyes flying open and his hips jerking off the bed.

She smiled sweetly at him. "'Morning, sleepyhead. Nice dreams?"

He pulled her half on top of him and kissed her hard, rubbing desperately against her. She kissed him back for a while, equally aggressive, tongues dueling and entwining. She straddled one of his thighs and pressed against it, moaning deep into his mouth and he made a move to remove her panties and just... She grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"No"

"No?" he was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." she took a deep breath, trying obviously to calm down "...this time we do this my way"

"Your way?" he realized he was just stupidly repeating what she said, but most of his blood flow was far from his brain at the moment.

She smiled deviously and leaned close, her breath hot in his ear. "You said you don't beg, Mr. Callen. I believe that was a challenge if I ever heard one. So, we do this my way"

He closed his eyes in defeat, cursing himself heartily. He did say that last night, trying to one-up her at some point after she moaned 'please' in his ear.

She studied him for a moment to make sure he was going to comply and let go of his wrist.

"Good choice"

He wasn't so sure about that.

She straddled him fully but didn't lean her whole weight on him. Her knees squeezed his hips, pretty much pinning him in place and not allowing him to keep rubbing against her. She kissed him again, softer this time, then moved her lips to his neck. Of course the devious woman had learned all his sweet spots a while back and was taking full advantage of that knowledge now. She nipped and licked his neck just below his ear, moving down then up again, until he was squirming again on the bed. Dragging her body lower and slightly rubbing against his hardness in the process, she moved her lips and hands to his chest. She licked his nipples slowly, one and then the other, over and over again, before lightly biting down and flicking the tip of her tongue repeatedly over the hard nubs. His breath was becoming more and more ragged and his hips again moved off the bed, in an effort to rub against something, anything. She didn't allow him even that small relief, smirking at him as she moved even lower. She pulled his boxers off, careful not to touch him in the process and blew a thin jet of air over his tip. He fisted the sheets again and closed his eyes for a second, mentally preparing for the soft touch of her tongue he was sure was following. His whole body jerked and he couldn't have stopped the inarticulate sounds he made if his life depended on it when she swallowed him whole in a single move. "Aaaah, nngg, Zee..."

She didn't move and kept his hips pinned in place so he couldn't either. Thankfully she had to breathe at some point so she pulled back, her lips caressing him. She sucked him hard a few times, enough to relieve the ache but certainly not enough to allow him relief. She let her tongue play along his shaft, swirling it around the head and moving down again, over and over again, alternating between that and pulling him completely into her mouth. He didn't know how much time passed, her touch too soft for him to finish but enough to keep him right there on the edge. She finally moved to straddle him again, relishing in the sight he made, eyes wild, panting, hands clenched so tightly in the sheets his knuckles turned white.

She lowered her body to impale herself on him, both moaning at the feeling. She kept up the slow rhythm, torturing him. A couple of times he tried to speed things up, grabbing her hips to push up into her, but each time she retaliated by stopping altogether.

"Anything you wanna say?" Callen took some solace in the fact that she at least didn't seem totally unaffected by this, her voice raspy and breathless.

He shook his head, teeth clenched. If she could take it, so could he.

She smiled deviously and stopped again, sitting up fully. His eyes widened as he saw her slowly sliding her hands down her own body, caressing her breasts and pinching her nipples. He tried again to take over but she just swatted his hand away, using her body to keep him pinned. She kept one hand on her breasts and moved the other one lower, between her legs. She rubbed at her clit hard, moaning, squeezing her internal muscles around him rhythmically. Again the pressure was just right to keep him _there_, so close and yet not close enough; if he never actually thought you could die from this before, now he did. She reached her peak and threw her head back, hips jerking against him and he really thought this was it and he was finally allowed to come too; she made sure that wasn't the case. He finally lost all control, more desperate than he ever remembered being, when she didn't keep moving on top of him.

"Pleaaase...oh God, pleaaase, I can't no more...I..."

He didn't even see her satisfied smile when she flipped them over, allowing him control over her body. He didn't give her any time to adjust to the change in position, way beyond rational thought, and pounded into her with all his strength. It only took seconds for him to go rigid on top of her, knives slicing through his spine and groin, inarticulate sounds pouring into her ear. He jerked a few more times, something akin to electric shocks going through his body before going completely slack on top of her. She kept him there for a while, slowly caressing his back. He looked at her in awe when he was finally able to move, not saying anything; somehow, nothing he could say would properly describe this.

She smirked at him. "So you do beg Mr. Callen. You just need the proper...motivation"

He didn't have any witty comeback. _'My brain is probably permanently fried'_

"Hey, aren't you late for work?"

"Oh hell!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

(NCIS LA Season 1, final episode)

The time he probably needed her the most, after finding out about his dead sister, he couldn't bring himself to call her.

Adrenaline kept him running throughout the day and to everyone he appeared to be functioning at full capacity. Or so he hoped. Debriefing with Kort over, Amy gone home, Callen stood alone in the middle of the large central hallway at Ops. Alone. Again. _'Or still, depending on how you looked at it'._ Sure, Sam offered his couch again, and although he had taken him up on the offer in the past he just couldn't do so now.

He had a sister. A sister! He had someone who cried for him, someone who loved him. Family. And finding that out at the same time he found out she was dead was... He couldn't find a word to describe it, nor did he have the inclination to do so. He felt himself starting to crumble and something akin to panic rose in his chest. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't be seen... Hetty, Hetty must still be here, she couldn't see him...nobody could. He grabbed his car keys and ran outside.

Later, he couldn't even remember how he got from Ops to the grubby motel room he was currently in, but was glad he didn't hit someone with his car.

He felt out of control, and saying that it scared him was a gross understatement.

Keeping his emotions in check was something he didn't really need training to learn. He learned that the hard way, ever since he was very young. Showing emotion or any kind of weakness for that matter in any of the foster homes or orphanages he's been in was...not in his best interest, to put it mildly. He closed his eyes, images he normally kept tightly locked up flashing unbidden behind his eyelids.

_He was six, currently living in a home with four other children, all older than him. They dared him and bullied him into poking the neighbor's sleeping German Sheppard, his small arm pushed as far as it would go through the fence. The dog didn't even bite him that hard, but he could hear the growling and feel the teeth lodged in his arm and he couldn't pull it back and... He ran inside after freeing himself, scared, crying and in pain and all he got was a hard slap across the face from his foster mother for creating problems with the neighbors. The other children made fun of him for the remaining two weeks of his stay there, calling 'crybaby' after him and barking around corners, with foster-dad laughing in the background. _

_He was twelve and there was this girl in school, Amber, pretty and popular and he had the biggest crush on her. Since he wasn't exactly Mr. Popularity, still skinny and a little short, he was surprised and beyond happy when she came to talk to him a few days in a row in the school yard, all sweet and friendly. One thing led to another, and before he knew what was happening, Amber was dragging him by the hand in a small room and he was spilling his guts out, telling her about how he felt about her, about his hopes and dreams. He realized everything he said was aired live on the school's radio system the moment he exited the room, Amber's and the other kid's laughter following him as he ran outside._

He slowly taught himself to keep what he was feeling to himself after that, and by the time he went through CIA training and later NCIS, he was already proficient in showing absolutely nothing. Those who knew him best could probably see through the facade, but even they could only get glimpses. To everyone else G. Callen was the epitome of emotional stability and control.

He snorted bitterly to himself and slowly sat on the uncomfortable bed. Truth was he felt things deeply, but could always keep his external responses in check. Which apparently wasn't the case now. He expected from himself to have gotten over this by now, to calm down and move on, but he seemed to be reacting worse with every passing minute.

The adrenaline gone from his system, Callen felt like there was nothing keeping him together anymore. He curled on the bed, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. He felt the panic begin to rise again. What was happening to him? Why was he reacting this way? Was this the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back? After everything, the shooting and months of painful recovery, Dom's disappearance and subsequent death, his identity compromised and now this... what if he just couldn't cope anymore? His friends would understand, wouldn't they? They wouldn't call 'crybaby' after him. But Hetty would sideline him and Sam and Kensi would give him pitying looks and everyone would treat him like damaged goods. This, what he did, being an agent, and a damn good one at that, this was who he was. He had nothing else to fall back onto, and if he couldn't cut it anymore... He jumped up from the bed, feeling like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs, heart racing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this must be something like a panic attack but that didn't make him feel any better. He leaned against a wall and let himself slid to the floor, legs too shaky to hold him up properly. He had to pull himself together somehow. Ten minutes of desperate efforts to control his breathing later, he felt only a fraction more composed; at least he didn't feel like he was having a heart attack any more.

Looking down he noticed with some surprise that his phone was held tightly in his clenched fist; he must have unconsciously held on to it through the whole...what should he call it, _episode_? He briefly thought about calling Nate, he could help him maybe, he had to...he had to get some help. But Nate would have to report to Hetty and he would be put on leave. _'Maybe that'd be a good thing'_ some internal voice suggested, but he quieted it ruthlessly. Down time was not what he needed, if anything it was quite the opposite, keeping his mind occupied was what got him through everything before.

Callen looked at the phone, hands still shaking. He knew who he really wanted to call, he'd known all along, it was just...he couldn't. Rationally he knew she would understand, in many aspects they were very much alike, and this need he had, to always be completely in control of his body, his mind, his emotions...she had it too. _'But what if'_, the inner voice didn't let up for a second, _'what if she didn't?'_ What if she saw him as weak, as less than what he appeared to be? As less than what she wanted? He put the phone on the floor beside him and gathered his knees to his chest, again feeling unbearably alone.

He didn't know how much time had passed but it was probably only minutes before the phone rang, startling him. He looked at the name on the screen and debated shutting it down; a couple of rings later his finger moved almost of its own volition and pressed the Answer key.

"G?"

He took a deep breath, hoping his voice didn't sound quite as wretched as he felt.

"Hey Ziva"

"Hey."

There was a long pause. _'So she didn't know what to say either'_

"I gather somebody called you. Hetty?"

She chuckled. "Yes"

There was a pause. Callen steeled himself to ask "What did she tell you?"

"Everything"

"She shouldn't have called. I'm good"

"Sure you are"

"What's that supposed to mean, Ziva?" for some reason he felt angered by the disbelief in her tone.

"It means that you always say that, that you're 'good'" she huffed in annoyance.

"Because I am. I don't need your pity, Ziva"

Now she was the one getting angry. "My pity?! How about my friendship? Or whatever you'd like to call it?"

'_This was not fair'_, he thought, her bringing their complicated and not-clearly-defined relationship up now.

"You don't have to call it anything. I'm not a child, and I'm not _damaged_, Ziva, I don't need you or Hetty mothering me!" _'And still you're acting exactly like a whiny child'_ the pesky internal voice suggested.

He expected another angry retort from her, her temper flared easily enough after all. What he didn't expect was the long silence on the other end.

When she finally spoke her voice sounded cold and carefully controlled. It scared him.

"Am I to understand that accepting help and support from a _friend_ is what makes you a _child_? That the fact that I..." her voice broke a little and he frowned "...the fact that you came to me after...Somalia...that makes me _damaged _in your eyes?"

His eyes went wide as he realized what he'd said and he sat up straighter against the wall, heart clenching painfully.

"God, no, that's not what I... No! I don't think that! I just..." he sighed "...it's not the same thing"

"No, it's not" another pause "I thought I could be of help, G. It was...my mistake. Good bye" she was obviously struggling to keep her voice level but he could hear the tears in it. He began to panic again, this time for very different reasons.

"No, don't, please don't hang up Ziva, I'm sorry, I really am, I truly didn't mean that!"

"And why shouldn't I hang up, G?"

"Because I..." he finally allowed some of what he was feeling to filter through into his voice "...because I need you, Ziva. I...don't wanna be alone right now. Please stay?"

He lay on the anonymous motel bed and cried for the second time in one single day, which was more than in the last 20 years combined, holding the phone close and listening to her voice. He woke up in the morning, phone still under his head. He apparently fell asleep talking to her and he smiled a bit as he read the message "Good night G! P.S. You snore louder each time... Love, Z."

With a slightly lighter heart he went to visit his sister's grave and the craziness started again. But that was something he knew how to deal with, and if not, there was someone he could always call.

Note: I'm back to work tomorrow and it looks like it's gonna be crazy. I will continue this, if (when) I get some inspiration, but it won't be regularly. I'm also really curious what they'll decide to do with Ziva on NCIS and see what that'll do to my muse...

THANK YOU! to abstractartist, ChristineL7, Davorah13, iyimgrace for your reviews and I'm open to suggestions about continuing this (or other ideas)


End file.
